A heavy fog carpets the road ahead of you. You hear a wolf howl in the distance as you hurry along the dark path. A breeze hits the back of your neck where a cold sweat lingers.

Why didn't I just come along with the others? You think to yourself as the watchful night closes in.

As you hurry along, in the distance, a joyous ruckus can be heard. The noise is coming from a cluster of lights that are blurred by the clouded air. The sound of people brings light in your heart as you do a quick hop to readjust your pack.

Suddenly, you hear a strange whisper behind you. It is cold and tingles you neck. What it is saying or if it is even real, you do not know, but it feels like you are being watched. You look behind yourself and see nothing but leafless trees and the eerie haze that covers the cobblestone road.

You breath quickens as your eyes dart around. The howl of a wolf slices through the air once more as you turn and run.

Your heart is racing and your lungs burning as you run as quickly as your legs can carry you. The lights grow larger and the voices get louder as you feel something rushing up behind you. Icy fingers reaching out to grab your neck.

Just as the feeling is too much to bear, you fall into the warm, golden lamplight of your destination. You look up to see a slab of wood engraved with Riverbrook Inn. The sign squeaks softly in the cold evening wind.

You look behind yourself once more and there is nothing. It is only the cold autumn night drawing in all around you. Behind you, the tavern door swings open with a creak.

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“Hey, there you are! The old boss finally let you go for the night? Come on in and have a brew. We already reserved a table and rooms for us all to spend the night.”

Relief spills over you as you smile and follow your friend into Riverbrook.

“Good evening, welcome in!” Freya shouts from behind the bar.

You wave to the woman as a large man walks up to you and you hand him your pack.

“Thanks, Harold,” you say with a smile.

The large man grunts and gives a polite smile as he moves along with his heavy footsteps to the stairs to your left.

“Come on,” your friend grabs your hand and pulls you across the warm and cheerful room. “We will miss the stories.”

You follow your friend past the fireplace that is crackling away with a terrific scent of pine. You quickly forget about the unsettling road as you see your fiends all around a table in the corner of the inn.

“There you are!” they say in unison as a worker brings over another round of Riverbrook Red.

“Come and have a seat, Gregory over here was about to tell another story.”

“What should the story be of? Should we have a noble tale of a hero?” Gregory queried the crowd.

“No, no, we have had enough of those,” someone said as they shook their head.

“Well, what kind of tale would you like?” Gregory countered.

“How about a scary story? A tale that would even frighten Chief General Baldric,” another suggested. There was a resounding agreement from the people in the tavern.

Gregory thought a moment, then a light came in his eyes. “I have got one. I am not sure anything would scare old Baldric, but I shall do my best.”